


All the Lives We've Lived

by The_Siren_Writes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, Mentions of Prostitution, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Rating May Change, Romance, Slow Burn, Young Arthur Morgan, Young Dutch van der Linde, Young Hosea Matthews, young miss grimshaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Siren_Writes/pseuds/The_Siren_Writes
Summary: Alma had always known that people had a choice in the path they walked down upon.  Like her parents always said, it was her choice to make herself into the person she wanted to be.  The winter of 1879 changed her path forever.  Now, it was up to Alma to see this new life through for all its happiness, sorrow, and challenges.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Something to Hope For

**January 7 th, 1879**

Everything had seemed like a nightmare straight from the books Alma’s mother used to read to her before going to bed. 

The winds howled below the moonlit skies. There was no noise, except for the breaths and hooves against the dirt rode of the horse she rode. The lone, desolate road was eerily quiet as the darkened clouds that began to form warned of what was to come. It was a common sight on a night just before a storm. The grass rustled, with the leaves of the trees doing the same. It was a lonely night, with not another rider in sight.

It was a perfect setting for a scary story, but not for a real-life one. 

Alma wished that this was just that: a nightmare that would go away once she opened her eyes. However, when she closed her eyes, and opened them like her mother use to tell her, she was still on the back of a horse with some man she didn’t know. 

The young girl felt the wind’s touch with every jolt of the horse’s powerful gallop. The sensation of the wind was the only thing reminding Alma that she was awake, and not in some nightmare, asleep as she wished she were. She had long since ceased to feel anything when this man had placed her on his horse earlier that day.

The events which led her here had been a blur, a distant memory. One minute, she was with Ma, and Pa, and the next they were dead. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head every passing moment with her final words: _‘Run, Alma! Promise me you won’t look back! Promise me!’_

Alma gazed toward the moon as a warm tear rolled down her cheek. She had tried to run as her mother said, but she was too slow, and too weak. The soldiers had easily captured her attempting to flee and forced her to look upon her mother as they brought her to her knees and killed her on spot. Ama Vidal had begged and pleaded with the soldiers who had raided their home and slayed her husband to let Alma go. Alma remembered their laughs taunting her before that life changing gunshot silenced any future the Vidal family may have had.

Her parent’s lifeless bodies played over and over in Alma’s mind as the soldiers who had killed them sold her to some establishment full of scantily clad women. There had been some type of auction the day she arrived, and she had been sold again. 

Now Alma rode with this stranger as her parent’s bodies rotted somewhere, someplace far away. She had been taken to the town where she had been auctioned off some days or hours prior, and the time before that, she couldn’t remember. Where she and this man were going, she didn’t know. In fact, Alma knew nothing of this strange man, not even his name. 

Wherever he was taking Alma, she knew it was likely nowhere good.

The auction where Alma had seen him was mere hours ago, yet it seemed like it happened many years ago. The lonesome road only made the time-stopping slowness even worse. It only served to increase and intensify the crippling numbness overcoming her body.

Alma reached into her pocket and searched for the thing that would bring her some peace in all this. Her fingers came across what she had been looking for: a folded picture of her parents tucked safely away from the world. She rubbed the picture gently inside her pocket and closed her eyes to imagine she was with them. The picture was the only thing she had brought with her, and the only thing the soldiers and people she had met since that fateful day that had not taken from her. 

Before she had more time to think, Alma’s thoughts were shattered as the sounds of hooves against the dirt road came from behind them, breaking the silence that had followed them. It wasn’t long before the hooves coming from behind them were now alongside them.

Beside them, a person rode atop a black stallion, keeping pace with them. Moments passed, with the rider not uttering a word to them. Alma stared at the ground and couldn’t shake the strange feeling overcoming her. Something wasn’t normal about this rider.

The man attempted to exchange a few words with the rider, who responded with only silence. They continued like this before the rider ventured closer to them on the path. 

This was no mere coincidence. Alma’s father had warned her of robbers and the like stalking roads at night. This person was here to rob them. 

Alma turned her head and tried to see who this person was. The night’s darkness did little to help her, however. All she could see was that the person was wearing something long and wore a black hat. The rider caught Alma’s observant stare, and locked eyes with her. They stared at each other for a moment. Alma didn’t understand why the person gazed at her, and she was even more confused when the rider’s brow furrowed, as though they were frustrated.

Alma was pulled from the exchange as she felt man’s back stiffen, and he sent the horse into a faster gallop. Before she had time to process the occurrence, a defining gunshot rang out, breaking the uneasy peace of the night. A shiver ran up Alma’s arms at the sound. She didn’t have time to dwell too long, as she soon came crashing forward against the man’s back as they came to a sudden halt. 

“Off your horse!” a woman’s voice ordered. 

The man didn’t comply immediately, “I come in pe-,”

A bullet hit the ground near their horse, startling the creature. While Alma cared less about the man, she did worry about the horse. They were kindred spirits taken hostage by this man, his neglect of her evident by her thin frame. Alma rubbed the mare’s side to calm her and soothe her panic from the gunshot. The horse whined but relaxed at her caress. 

“I’m not gonna repeat myself: off your horse and take down the girl,” the woman had the lower half of her face concealed with an ornate scarf as she pointed her revolver at the man, finger ready on the trigger. The woman’s eyes were fixated on Alma the entire time, occasionally glancing towards the man. 

The man trembled and obeyed, helping Alma off.

He held up his hands, “Listen I ain’t-“

“Shut up! I don’t recall giving you permission to speak,” she spat. Alma locked eyes with the woman once again. The woman’s eyes were steady, and intense, and for a mere moment, a warm, gentleness flickered in them, before returning to the fiery glare from earlier as she returned attention to the man.

The woman took a step toward, “Walk the girl to me. Any funny business, and I’ll paint the road with the insides of your brain,”

The man shook his head, “Alright, I’ll do any you say, but please do-“

“I ain’t asking for no explanation! Do it now!” she shouted, firing off a second shot.

“Okay! I’ll do it!” the man pressed his hand against Alma’s back as he took small steps forward. 

Alma looked back to the horse to make sure she was alright before turning her head back toward the woman. The woman kept her eyes on Alma the entire time, not once looking away. Once they were a step-in front of her, the woman took Alma by the hand with a tenderness she had not experienced in a while. The woman pressed her protectively against her side as she held her revolver to the center of the man’s head. 

Alma watched the man shake, “Plea-“

The woman hit the end of her revolver against his head, knocking him down to the ground. The man yelled in pain as she loomed over him and released Alma from her side. The woman reached into a bag attached to the belt of her skirts to reveal a blindfold and rope.

“Shut the hell up you piece of filth!” she yelled as she tied the man’s hands and legs before tying the blindfold around his eyes. She pushed him to the ground, and kicked him in the stomach, and leaned into his ear, “You’re lucky I don’t bleed you dry right here, right now, you son of a bitch,”

Alma simply stared at the scene unfolding before her eyes. The woman dragged the man to the side of the road and pushed him against the nearest tree. He writhed and squirmed before she tied a bandana around his mouth to quiet his screams. 

“Enjoy your time while you still can. The crows will be eating good tomorrow,” she said as she turned and walked away, ignoring the man’s muffled cries. 

Alma stood where the woman had left her, watching her as she finished her business with the man. Once again, she turned her attention to Alma. The fire that had been in the woman’s eyes melted away as she set her sights on her.

Alma returned the woman’s gaze before lowering her eyes to the ground, accepting what had occurred. While whatever the man had in store for her was no good, once again, Alma didn’t know what was going to happen to her. Everything she had known was gone. She watched as her tears soaked the ground, wetting the earth beneath her feet. Alma didn’t know what to do other than stand and allow the tears to flow. 

The gravel of the dirt road crunched. Alma knew it was the woman, it had to be. 

The woman walked over to her and knelt to her height. She reached over and grasped one of Alma’s hand gently in her own. Alma raised her head slowly meeting her eyes as the woman removed her scarf to reveal her face before taking Alma’s other hand in hers. 

Alma observed this woman who said no words other than giving her a faint, but tender smile reminiscent of her mother’s. The woman was around mother’s age from what she could tell, with a youthful glow about her. 

“What’s your name, miss?” the woman asked softly.

With just the sound of her voice, and the events that had unfolded just moments prior, Alma found herself revealing her name to this woman she hardly knew.

“Alma,”

“Alma,” the woman repeated with a smile, “Is that the only name you have?”

Alma shook her head, “Alma Awinita Vidal,” she replied. 

The woman smiled faintly, and squeezed her hands gently, “That’s quiet a name. Beautiful, yet strong,”

In another time, Alma would have never revealed her full name to a complete stranger. However, this wasn’t that time. Whether it was hope or something else entirely, Alma found herself trusting this woman. It was as though Alma’s mind and soul knew that this woman would bring her no harm. Without a second thought, Alma threw herself into the woman’s arms, and pressed her cheek against her shoulder.

The woman returned her embrace, and held her tightly, “You’re coming with me, Miss Alma. The people I run with are not like that man,” she said, holding her, “I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again. I’ll keep you safe. I promise,”

 _‘I promise’._ Alma nodded her head against the woman’s chest, choosing to believe the woman’s words. 

“C’mon,” the woman rose to her full height and held Alma’s hand, “We’re going home,” 

Before the woman took her to her horse, Alma looked to the man’s mare, still waiting, and watching her. They stared at one another, and each held an understanding of the other. She was a brave beauty, and in need of serious care. Like Alma, she needed rescuing too. 

Alma stopped the woman in her tracks, and pointed to the horse, “Can we take her, please? She needs to be safe too…”

The woman looked to where she pointed and gazed at the creature. She walked over to the mare and inspected her carefully. She petted the horse and whispered something in its ear before turning to Alma. “Us ladies have to stick together. Especially with a beautiful girl like that one- she’s a keeper,”

Relief washed over Alma now that the mare was coming with them. The woman helped Alma onto her horse before she reached over to the mare’s reigns and took them in addition to her own. With a nudge, she sent them all on an easy trot. 

Alma pressed her cheek against the woman’s back, and whispered, “Thank you, “ she paused realizing she didn’t what to call her, “I-I don’t even know your name,”

Without a second thought the woman replied. 

“Susan Grimshaw,”

* * *

**January 9 th, 1879- Two days later**

They had travelled most of the night and early into the morning. How Miss Grimshaw managed the journey with two horses, and a girl, Alma didn’t know. All that she did know was that she wanted to feel the ground beneath her feet soon. 

“We’re almost there, Miss Alma. Just a little bit further, I promise,” Miss Grimshaw said as they continued on the last of their journey.

Alma nodded, weary from all this travelling. Her thick black hair was plastered against her skull, desperate for a wash. In the middle of winter, it was a crazy idea to wash in the frozen creeks. Instead, Miss Grimshaw promised a nice warm bath once they got to their destination when she had caught Alma looking at the once flowing waters. 

The idea of a bath was something to look forward to in all this mess. Alma wanted to feel clean and remove any traces of wrongness off her. It would be a relief to feel good once more. 

Miss Grimshaw had explained that she and her friends were lodged up in an abandoned cabin hidden away in the woods surrounding the town Alma had been sold at. Alma looked around, noting all the trees that surrounded them. There were so many twists and turns that surely anyone would get lost if they didn’t know their way around. Alma could have sworn they had passed some of these trees already.

As if sensing her distress, Miss Grimshaw turned her head and said, “Don’t worry, miss. We’re not lost,”

Wherever this cabin was, it was out of sight and out of mind. With the way Miss Grimshaw held the revolver and robbed the man from the previous day, Alma had no doubt that there was a reason for its location. 

In fact, Alma suspected there was a reason for it all. 

Miss Grimshaw was an interesting woman. She was well-spoken, evident by her speech with the man from the previous day. To further that observation, Alma noticed that Miss Grimshaw always made sure that whenever they rested that every item in their inventory was placed back into its proper place. She even dusted the dirt off her boots before saddling up once more and did the same to Alma. In fact, Miss Grimshaw had asked Alma’s permission to braid her hair, so that it was out of her face. 

Yet, these mannerisms contrasted to the other side Alma had seen of her. 

Despite Miss Grimshaw’s proper and well-mannered ways, Alma could see there was a sense of wildness that she kept in check. Miss Grimshaw had stared down the man with a distant and judgmental fury, as though nothing else mattered other than destroying who she deemed her enemy. The fiery, stone-cold look in her eyes were something Alma wouldn’t forget.

It was something to afraid of, but in truth, she wasn’t. Alma was thankful that Miss Grimshaw had such tenacity and ferociousness about her. It was that iron-will that saved Alma from who knows what yesterday. Alma didn’t know how she would ever be able to repay her for that. 

In fact, both of she and her animal friend were in Miss Grimshaw’s debt.

Alma reached over to pet the mare who had been saved, stroking her dark mane gently. The mare responded, liking the attention that she was receiving. Alma didn’t know much about horse breeds, but she sensed a strength and bravery within this one. The mare’s soulful eyes told a similar story to Alma’s, and Alma wanted nothing more than for them to start their story over. 

They both were free of whatever that man had planned for them. 

“She’ll need a name, you know. Something beautiful and strong, like the lady she is. You got any good ones?” Miss Grimshaw asked, eyeing Alma.

Alma gazed at the horse’s dark coat and smiled faintly. Yes, she would need a name, but Alma would not be the one to give it her. No, it had to be someone who could understood her nature and saw her for what she was: a fighter, a warrior. 

Alma returned Miss Grimshaw’s look, and nodded, “Yeah, she does. She’s brave, and strong. Her rider needs to have that honor,”

Miss Grimshaw frowned, “The way you make it sound, you’re not going be her rider, I take it?”

Alma shook her head, “No, it can’t be me. There’s someone out there for her. I can feel it,” she replied, petting the mare softly.

Several seconds passed before Miss Grimshaw spoke, “Strong, and brave you say? Well, there might be someone back home who can fit that bill. Hopefully, he can live up to that criteria,”

They looped around one more curve on the beaten path before a rustic cabin came into view. Just outside the cabin, a wagon was stationed just off to the side with a horse resting within stable, drinking water and eating peacefully. A soft orange glow of light came through the crack in the front window as evening began to settle.

This was place Miss Grimshaw had promised. 

Alma’s heart began beating fast, her palms starting to sweat. Her back stiffened, as the horse’s strides became long and slow to her. Her vision began to blur, and her breaths quickened. A tremble travelled down her spine, and unknowingly, she squeezed Miss Grimshaw’s waist.

Miss Grimshaw turned to look at her once they reached the cabin. A small tear rolled down Alma’s cheek, and Miss Grimshaw’s face softened. She climbed down the horse and helped Alma off. Miss Grimshaw steadied her, making sure she was grounded before leading the horses to the stable for rest.

Alma felt so small and out in the open. She found herself afraid of what was to come. Miss Grimshaw’s absence only intensified the turmoil and dread within Alma. She could only stare at the cabin, her entire body shaking as she did. She raised her hands before her face and watched as they shook. This wave of fear and anxiety came over her like a storm on a sunny day. 

Alma jumped when she felt a hand upon her shoulder. She immediately looked up to see Miss Grimshaw staring down upon her. It was clear that she had felt Alma’s trembling beneath her hand.

Miss Grimshaw knelt down to Alma’s height, the same way she did that day. She took Alma’s shaking hands and clasped them ever so gently in her own. She gazed into her eyes, silently asking Alma to do the same. Alma raised her eyes to meet Miss Grimshaw’s.

Slowly, Alma felt the shaking subside slightly. Miss Grimshaw continued to hold Alma’s hands until her breathing returned to normal. 

Only when Alma stopped shaking completely, did she finally speak, “Remember what I said back there miss? Can you repeat those words for me?” Miss Grimshaw asked.

Alma breathed deeply, and nodded in response, “I-I-I’ll keep you s-s-safe,” she whispered.

Miss Grimshaw smiled, squeezing Alma hands, “I meant every word. It doesn’t matter who it is- I’ll protect you, day or night,”

With that, Alma’s fears were quelled for the time being. She wrapped her arms around Miss Grimshaw and nodded her head once more. They remained together until Miss Grimshaw released Alma and rose from her knees. Her hand remained clasped around one of Alma’s before she pointed to the cabin with her head.

“It’s time to see our home,” she announced.

Together hand in hand, they inched slowly toward the door.

Whatever was behind that closed door, Alma knew that Miss Grimshaw would keep her word.


	2. Hopeful Dreams and Other Things

**January 9 th, 1879**

Miss Grimshaw wrapped her arm around Alma’s shoulder protectively and pulled her to her side as she turned the knob of the cabin door. Alma exhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes as the door creaked open. She clasped her hands together in front of her chest as she and Miss Grimshaw crossed the threshold.

They were met with a flush of warm air upon their entry. Alma slowly opened her eyes to the inside of the cabin, noting the glow coming from the fireplace nearby. It was a quant and quiet place, no decorations, or pictures upon its walls. By the fireplace, there were four chairs with a writing desk tucked underneath the window beside Alma and Miss Grimshaw. A wall beyond the fireplace separated the living space from what Alma presumed was the kitchen. 

On the other side to their right, was a hallway lined with three doors, which were likely rooms that housed Miss Grimshaw and the friends that she spoke of. Overall, the place was unsuspecting, which was a perfect cover. 

Before Alma had a chance to see anything else, their quiet entrance was soon interrupted by the sound of a soft bark, and paws on the floor. Bolting out from one of the rooms, a large reddish-brown hunting dog appeared before them. The dog’s tail wagged to and fro as he sniffed and licked at Alma’s feet. His golden eyes gazed at her playfully, and Alma couldn’t help but reveal a small smile.

“That playful feller right there is Copper,” Miss Grimshaw motioned for him to come to her. Copper jogged over to her happily. With a smile, she scratched behind his ears, earning a spoiled whine from the hound. She took Alma’s hand and placed it upon Copper’s head, prompting Alma to do the same motion. Alma hesitated before Miss Grimshaw encouraged her some more, “Don’t worry, the only people he bites are his enemies,” she explained.

Taking her word, Alma knelt to Copper’s height to massage his ears. The hound leaned against Alma, clearly enjoying the attention he was receiving. He soon lay against her stretching his limbs lazily as she continued her ministrations. 

“He’s so soft…” Alma commented, relishing in the feel of his fluffy fur.

Miss Grimshaw laughed, “Oh, you’ve got him started now,”

Copper was one of the purest beings Alma had ever encountered besides the mare they had rescued. He had only come into her life for a mere minute, and Alma already held an immense love for the animal. 

The moment of serenity was soon broken when a man’s voice sounded off from the room Copper came from, “Oh thank god! I was about to go out and find you myself. Where were you?” The sound of a door opening followed by footsteps put Alma on edge once again. 

Without a second to spare, she rose quickly and pressed herself back into Miss Grimshaw’s side. Before Miss Grimshaw had a chance to explain, out came a tall man with dark hair. Alma’s eyes widened as she looked at him, invisible to his eyes. 

He appeared to be around the age of Miss Grimshaw, maybe a little younger. The man gazed upon Miss Grimshaw with a face full of worry. His eyes were tender when he looked at her. 

This must’ve been one of the men Miss Grimshaw had described to Alma on their way here. Which one he was, she had no idea. 

Miss Grimshaw frowned as she placed her free hand on her hip, “That is some first impression, Dutch Van der Linde,”

Dutch raised his brows, “I don-,” It took him only a second to notice Alma by Miss Grimshaw’s side. Alma crept closer to Miss Grimshaw’s side, avoiding his line of line. 

It was useless, however. Alma peaked over to see his eyes widened before he cocked his head sideways with a half-smile upon his lips, “Susan, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand our situation,”

Dutch’s gaze bounced between her and Miss Grimshaw, apparently eager to know the story behind all this “situation” as he called it. Alma’s eyes caught the gun holstered at his waist, which caused her to lean into Miss Grimshaw’s side more. Alma wanted nothing more than to hide behind Miss Grimshaw’s skirts. 

Miss Grimshaw felt her rise anxiety as well. She hugged Alma to her shaking her head, “All this fuss you’re creating is causing her a fright. Is that anyway to speak in front of a lady?”

“Well, I first and foremost apologize to this lovely young lady for my behavior,” Dutch tipped his hat toward Alma with a vibrant smile as a sign of good will. There was something about him that Alma couldn’t explain. His mannerism put her at ease yet he confused her all the same. 

He turned his eyes back to Miss Grimshaw and took a small step toward them, making sure he kept his distance for Alma’s sake, “However, this unexplained circumstance that we’ve found ourselves in, Susan, is causing me a fright, I’m afraid,” Dutch turned to her, “Wouldn’t you agree, young miss?”

Alma froze when Dutch spoke to her. While he didn’t exactly scare her now that she’s met him, Alma couldn’t find her voice or words. Instead, she merely nodded, and Copper decided to chime in with a bark as well alongside her.

“See,” Dutch hands gestured to Alma, “Even our young friend here and Copper believe I’m owed an explanation,”

Alma looked up to see a scowl upon Miss Grimshaw’s face. However, the corners of her mouth rose slightly, hiding a faint smile beginning to form. 

“It’s okay, miss, those are just Dutch’s rosy words. Pay them no mind at all. You’ll learn to ignore them in time,” Miss Grimshaw whispered aloud for Dutch to hear her. She shook her head, and rubbed Alma’s shoulder before she returned her attention back to him, “He’s a silly little man, but he’s one of the few good ones I know,”

Alma relaxed slightly, knowing that Miss Grimshaw had everything under control. This was all playful talk it seemed. Still, she wished to remain by her side, as it was the only place that she felt safe. 

“There’s nothing to explain, Dutch. I saved her, and now she’s here,” Miss Grimshaw stated.

Dutch shook his head, and smirked, “Your choice of words never ceases to amaze me. However, I believe I may need a little more information to go off of, Susan,”

Alma stared at him with wonder. His way of speech was something like a poet, or something Ma would read to her out of a book. There was something about him that was oddly comforting, but also terrifying.

Like Miss Grimshaw, this man was unsuspecting, but dangerous. 

Miss Grimshaw sighed, “Let’s not talk about her as though she ain’t here. A bit rude, and thoughtless, don’t you think?”

Again, he smiled before bowing before Alma, “My apologies, young lady. I’m afraid I’m a poor host. Could you find it within yourself to forgive me?” he held his hand out to her and knelt on one knee before her.

Alma stared at his hand and wondered what she should do. She looked up to Miss Grimshaw, who gave her a smile and a simple nod of her head. If anything went wrong, Alma knew she would keep her promise. 

‘ _I meant every word’_

With a deep breath, Alma reached out, and placed her hand in his.

Dutch was careful when he grasped her hand, something Alma hadn’t expected of him. She watched him stare at their hands, fixated on them before he met her eyes once more and smiled, “You have my utmost thanks for your forgiveness. Allow for me to properly introduce myself,” Dutch removed his hat, and held it to his chest, “Dutch Van der Linde at your service, miss”

She removed herself from Miss Grimshaw’s side and took a step toward Dutch. If Miss Grimshaw trusted him, then Alma supposed she could as well. 

Alma bowed her head slightly, and told him her name, “Alma Awinita Vidal,”

“Miss Alma, that’s quite the name for someone so young. Though, I suppose you may be used to hearing such compliments,” Dutch replied. 

“Alright, Dutch enough of your flowery language. Where on earth’s Hosea and Arthur? Why aren’t they here?” Miss Grimshaw asked. 

Dutch rose from where he knelt, and dusted himself off, “Bessie. She’s com-”

Suddenly, the door behind them swung open and three people waltzed in: a man, what appeared to be either a young man or older boy, and a woman. Their sudden entrance put a shock into Alma’s body, and once more, she ran back to Miss Grimshaw’s side.

“Hey Dutch, did ya notice that we have a new mare in the stable?” the young man or older boy asked. Alma couldn’t tell from this distance. 

The older man sighed, “Arthur, I believe he would’ve noticed if we had another horse. I don’t think he’s that oblivious,”

Neither one of them seemed to notice Alma, except the woman who noticed her almost immediately. She looked to Miss Grimshaw and then to Dutch.

“Hosea, Arthur--” she began before being cut off.

“Bessie, tell Hosea to stop using them words!” the youngest complained. 

“A man’s words are the strongest weapon he can have, Arthur. It’s best you learn that young,” the older man replied.

With all the new people now surrounding them, Alma’s mind quickly became overwhelmed. Dutch was one thing, but meeting all these others at once, it was much more difficult than she thought it would be. She quickly hid behind Miss Grimshaw’s skirt. 

The room was suddenly silenced by none other than Miss Grimshaw.

“The lack of manners on all you is sickening!” Miss Grimshaw turned to the youngest of them and furrowed her brow, “Mr. Morgan! You’re quite the sight.”

The youngest frowned, clearly taking offense to her words. His blue eyes stood out against the dust upon his face and dark clothing. If Miss Grimshaw’s mannerisms during their journey was any indication, Alma could see she was displeased with the upkeep of his cleanliness. 

He raised his hands, “I look fine. What you do ya mean?”

“You’re revolting!” Miss Grimshaw grimaced as she eyed him up and down. 

She wasn’t sure what about it, but for a moment the panic that had filled Alma’s was subdued. Alma couldn’t help but allow a silent laugh to slip out as she peaked out from Miss Grimshaw’s skirts. Only the boy seemed to notice, and he quickly glanced over to her. They locked eyes for a second.

Warmness settled on her cheeks from him catching her. Alma looked elsewhere to avoid his curious stare. Thankfully, Miss Grimshaw continued on, “I apologize for this Bessie, but may you please draw Mr. Morgan a bath before he gets us all sick,”

“Wait a minute! I’ve-”

Before he had a chance to explain, Miss Grimshaw had caught him by the ear. She dragged him to the hall, leaving Alma to stare on with the others. It was amazing how Miss Grimshaw managed to command an entire room.

“And I ain’t asking, Mr. Morgan, I’m telling!” Miss Grimshaw retorted as she pushed him into hallway. She placed both hands on her hips, “My cabin, my rules! Now get!”

“C’mon along now, Arthur. Let’s get that bath ready,” the woman named Bessie smiled to Alma as she escorted the boy down the hall.

“Now that that’s sorted, let’s start all these introductions again once these two are clean. Heavens only knows that this child needs that bit of comfort with all she’s been through. Now if you excuse me, Imma a draw bath for this little lady,” Miss Grimshaw walked Alma through the hall before turning back, “And no men in the hall until we’re done!”

Copper barked in response. Alma pointed to the dog, silently asking Miss Grimshaw if he could follow along. Miss Grimshaw sighed before adding, “Except Copper, of course,”

Copper trotted along with them.

At long last, the wrongness could be washed away.

* * *

**January 9 th, 1879**

The warm water felt heavenly against Alma’s skin. The hours of travelling seemed to melt away as Miss Grimshaw poured more water over her head, cleansing her mind and soul. It had been too long since this amount of peace had settled over her. With Copper laying in the corner of the room, and Miss Grimshaw right by her side, Alma was able to let her guard down and simply feel. 

Alma leaned back against the side of tub, as Miss Grimshaw passed soap over her hair. She lathered her long, thick strands of hair with the bar, making sure to remove any traces of dirt and grime. 

“Feels nice, miss, doesn’t it?” Miss Grimshaw commented as she helped Alma scrub her scalp.

Alma nodded in agreement, “It does,” she paused for a moment, and remembered that none of this would be possible without her. It was a debt that no amount of thanks or simple words could ever repay. Still, she wanted to say it regardless, “Thank you…for everything,”

“I would do it all over again,” Miss Grimshaw replied.

And in heart, Alma believed she would. She had a tenderness similar to her own parents. The thought left her with a longing to see them again. 

“Is my picture still there?” Alma asked looking behind her in hopes of seeing the folded image.

“Of course,” Miss Grimshaw replied, turning her head in the direction of the photo, “It’s right over there on the nightstand,”

Suddenly three soft knocks at the door interrupted what Alma wanted to say next. Fear coursed through her veins, but Miss Grimshaw soothed her with her firm hands.

“It alright, it’s only Bessie. I asked her to come. She’s a lady like us, and it’s good to have more of those around here”

Alma didn’t know what to say. 

“May she come in?” Miss Grimshaw asked. 

The suggestion didn’t exactly appeal to her, but she didn’t want to disappoint Miss Grimshaw. Alma shrugged her shoulders, sinking a little further into the bath. 

Miss Grimshaw simply shook her head, “Oh no, none of that, miss. I want to make sure we’re in agreement, you and I. I don’t want to go and make choices that’ll make you feel unsafe,” 

Alma sat up and agreed with Miss Grimshaw’s words. She and this Bessie had only met eyes for a moment before Miss Grimshaw had criticized the men of their group. She seemed to hold the same strength as Miss Grimshaw, and her look spoke of only softness.

Despite this, she wanted to know more about Bessie before allowing to her to see her like this. 

“What’s she like?” Alma asked at last. 

“Mrs. Bessie Matthews,” Miss Grimshaw began, “Nothing but positive things. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met and deals with those fools as much as me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say one unkind thing since I’ve known her. But,” Miss Grimshaw gave Alma a pointed look, “We don’t have to let her in if you don’t want to,”

A choice in what would happen. Everything had been decided for Alma before now. What happened was her decision for once.

Like with Dutch, if Miss Grimshaw trusted and spoke highly of Bessie, then it wouldn’t hurt to see and meet her. 

“I want to meet her,” Alma finally replied. 

“C’mon on in, Bessie,” Miss Grimshaw said.

The door opened slowly, and Bessie stepped inside the room quietly. She made sure not to make any loud or sudden noises as she did so. She shut the door behind her and turned around to look at them. 

Bessie had tender smile upon her face when her eyes met Alma’s. Her wide blue eyes held an air of kindness that Miss Grimshaw had described.

“I apologize for our meeting earlier, miss. The timing couldn’t have been worse,” she explained before handing Miss Grimshaw some folded attire. Bessie laughed with a sigh as her work was unfolded by Miss Grimshaw, “I didn’t know your measurements, and there wasn’t any fabric to make something proper. I tried to put something together out of some old blankets I had in my bags. I hope you don’t mind, miss”

Alma peered over the edge of the tub to see the clothing. The material was a deep green, and appeared to be soft. It was something Bessie didn’t have to do, but she did it away. She hardly knew her…just like Miss Grimshaw hardly knew when they had met. 

Yet they both helped her all the same. 

A small shy smile formed upon Alma’s lips, and she dipped her head in thanks, “Thank you,”

Bessie smiled in return, “It’s no problem,”

She walked over to the nightstand to retrieve some towels when Alma noticed her glancing at the folded photo. Bessie’s eyes remained fixated on it. 

“Do you mind if I look at it?” Bessie asked before even touching it.

Now that Alma knew her, Alma nodded her head, allowing Bessie to hold it.

Bessie unfolded it, and looked upon it with a small smile. She glanced over to them, “We’ll want to keep this safe,” she explained while gazing and holding the photo delicately in her hands.

Keeping the photo safe wasn’t a thought that had crossed Alma’s mind once. Of course, that was before all of this. 

“How can you do that?” Alma asked.

Bessie smiled, and placed the photo back on the nightstand. She handed the towels to Miss Grimshaw, “Well, you can put it in a picture frame. That way, it stays nice and neat so that it won’t tear or get lost. I got one in Hosea’s room that I’m not using. We can put it right in there to protect it. Would you like that?”

Alma nodded immediately, “Please, I’d like that a lot,” she replied as Miss Grimshaw helped her dry her hair and dress into the quickly sewn clothing.

As Bessie had said, the dress and under garments she had sewn together were about several inches too big for Alma’s thin frame, but compared to the dirty rags she had on, it was leagues better. Miss Grimshaw tightened the clothing with some ribbon before brushing through her damp locks. She allowed for her hair to hang loose to waist so that it could dry. 

“Now that you’re clean, we’ll go ahead and have some introductions,” Miss Grimshaw explained, “They’re all sitting down, and they know not ambush you with any unnecessary questions,”

“I made sure to remind them on my way here,” Bessie added. 

Alma nodded, thankful for that they thought of her. She fidgeted for a moment, suddenly self-conscious, afraid even. Part of her, a silly part, wondered how much they knew…

“Miss Grimshaw,” Alma began, unsure of how to say it, “I-uh,” she sighed, struggling to the find the words, “N-no, I,” she looked to Bessie and then to Miss Grimshaw. She gazed to the ground, and shook her head, “Have you told them…everything?”

Miss Grimshaw smiled sadly, “Of course not. You told me that in confidence. You know what that means?” Alma shook her head. Miss Grimshaw knelt to her height and smoothed the fabric of Alma’s dress, “It means you told me with trust. Your story isn’t mine to tell. How much you want them to know, if anything, is up to you. You don’t have to tell them everything right away even. We all have a past here, and we respect it,”

Alma looked to Bessie, who stood patiently by Miss Grimshaw’s side. She had been nothing but kind to her, and Alma couldn’t help but feel a pull towards her like she did with Miss Grimshaw that day. It would help if someone else besides Miss Grimshaw knew the entire story. Well, at least for now until Alma decided she was strong enough to tell the others everything. 

With a straight back, Alma walked over to Bessie. 

“Bessie, before we go out to the others…,” Alma closed her eyes, feeling the tears prick behind them. No, no more tears. She breathed in deeply before exhaling. She was going to do this, “I want to-I want to you hear it. Everything,”

And so, Bessie sat at the edge of the bed and listened to everything Alma had to say from the beginning, just as Miss Grimshaw had been told during their journey. The memories she had repressed surfaced again, as did the pain. By the end of it, a small tear fell from one of Bessie’s eyes fell before she pulled Alma into an embrace. 

Moments of silence passed before Alma removed herself from Bessie’s embrace, and decided it was time, “I’m ready,”

Miss Grimshaw held out her hand and Alma took it. Bessie smiled before escorting them back out into the living space. 

Just as Miss Grimshaw promised they would be, Dutch, the man named Hosea Alma presumed, and the boy, Arthur, now clean, all seated facing towards them. They couldn’t help but look to her. This time, Alma didn’t hide, and instead smiled faintly at them. 

It still felt strange, but, if she didn’t give them the chance, she wouldn’t know who they were. 

“All right, let’s start this again, and hopefully this time you three can be the gentleman you claim to be,” Alma heard Miss Grimshaw comment as she was helped into her seat across from the trio. 

Dutch was the first to respond, “Rest assured, Susan, we are not nothing, if not gentleman,”

Hosea snorted, a bright smile upon his face, “I suppose in a certain light perhaps. Though, I’m not quite sure those we’ve crossed paths with would quite agree with that assessment of yours,”

Alma shifted in her seat, and watched the interaction between the men carefully. She looked them over, and noticed their firearms were absent. This had to have been from Miss Grimshaw’s and/or even Bessie’s insistence. 

Their talk was cut short, “All right, let’s not get distracted in a nonsensical debate. Our girl has had quite the journey, and I’m sure she would enjoy some rest. Let’s get our introductions in, so she can get some shut eye,” Miss Grimshaw insisted.

Bessie chimed in, “Perhaps miss should start,” she glanced to Alma, and gave her look of encouragement. 

“That’s a fine idea, Bessie,” Miss Grimshaw agreed. 

Alma took a deep breath from where she sat, and found her voice, “My-my name is Alma… Awinita Vidal,” she dipped head to the men, relieved her part was done.

“Soul,” Alma blinked in surprise when the oldest of them spoke.

Alma. Soul. _How did he know that?_

He didn’t appear to catch her look of shock before shaking his head, “My apologies young miss. It seems I’ve gotten ahead of myself: Hosea Matthews, a pleasure to meet you at last,”

Alma rose from her chair, now curious about the man, “How did you know what my name meant?”

Hosea smiled, “I’m just a simple man with a love of literature, Miss Alma. Though, I’m afraid I can’t say I have knowledge of Awinita,”

Without thinking of the consequences of revealing another part of herself, Alma replied, “It’s Cherokee for fawn,”

Before she time to realize what she had done, Hosea nodded in approval, “Then that is certainly some combination you have- The Soul Fawn of Life. Though I suppose the extent of my Spanish, and now Cherokee skills are now at their end. Perhaps you can teach us some culture around here,”

This was unexpected. He didn’t look at her in disgust like the townspeople in the past. None of them did that in fact. Alma smiled faintly before sitting back down. 

“This young lady and I have already introduced ourselves, but I suppose for the sake of this meeting: Dutch Van der Linde,” Dutch rose again and bowed to Alma before taking his seat, “And, I for one, cannot help but agree with Hosea. Especially for other young mind in our group,”

The young man jumped up, “I just don’t like them big books and words you two go on about. I don’t even understand half of it,”

“Mr. Morgan,” Miss Grimshaw warned with an edge evident in her voice. 

“Sorry,” the boy looked to Alma. Now she had a good look at him, he couldn’t have been older than eighteen. Youth was evident on him with the way he spoke, and from what she witnessed earlier, the way he acted. Even his face still held some roundness to it, “I’m Arthur. Arthur Morgan,”

Although Arthur seemed more than a handful of years older than she, Alma didn’t recall spending time around people less than a decade her senior. Alma was uncertain how to approach him. They held each other’s sight before she quickly moved to look elsewhere, similar to how she had done earlier.

Alma felt Arthur’s gaze upon her, before he finally sighed and looked away, “Well, at least I ain’t the youngest anymore,”

“A good observation, Arthur,” Dutch pointed out, “Before we adjourn this fine evening, may we get an age, Miss Alma, so that we may conduct ourselves with utmost respect,”

A harmless question, but it was one that cast a cloud over her head. Alma lowered her sights to ground. It was the only thing she hadn’t revealed to anyone, not even Miss Grimshaw. 

There was no changing the past. It was part of her now, no matter how much she wished it wasn’t.

She’d have to face it eventually.

Alma lifted her gaze back up, and answered with a sad expression, “I just turned nine… a few days back,”

A silence settled, and thankfully Miss Grimshaw intervened on her behalf, “That’s enough questioning for the night. Miss Alma, and I are going to turn in for the evening,” Miss Grimshaw helped out of her seat, and began walking her back to the room. Several steps in, she turned around and said, “Mr. Morgan, you make sure those chores get done. Don’t think I didn’t notice,”

Arthur began protesting but was soon quieted by Hosea and Dutch. 

They entered the room, and it looked the same as they had left it. Copper sat up from where he lay, wagging his tail in excitement before resuming his previous position. 

“Go right on ahead, and lay down. I’ll get you some blankets,” Miss Grimshaw said as she went back outside the room to retrieve the item. 

Alma climbed into bed, leaning back against the soft pillows. She stared up at the ceiling, grateful for the plushness of the mattress that took away the dark tone of the last part of the conversation. 

The door opened silently with Miss Grimshaw stepping through with a blanket in hand. She sat at Alma’s bedside, unfolding the blanket, and paused to look at her with sullen eyes. 

“You didn’t have to tell us that last part, you know,” she said, tucking the blanket around Alma.

“I know, but I wanted to. I don’t wanna keep everything a secret. They’re nice, like you promised they would be. Everyone should at least know how old I am,” Alma replied.

Miss Grimshaw stopped to glance to the ceiling, not saying a word. 

After a few seconds, she met her eyes once more, “Well, ‘nice’ wouldn’t be the word I would use to describe this bunch, but I’m glad that you’re alright with it,” Miss Grimshaw straightened the sides of her hair, “Now you go on and get some rest. I’ll stay awake until you fall asleep, alright?”

Alma nodded and sunk deeper into the blanket. It didn’t take long for the comfort of the warm blankets to overcome her. 

Despite the fact her deep sleep began with a nightmare of pain and suffering, it soon turned into a beautiful dream of life. 

She dreamt of a life she could call her own. One of hope, one of choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed reading! Still no backstory on Alma, but you will get some soon. I've been doing research on the characters, lore, and Cherokee language to make sure I have as accurately depicted as I can. I even looked up price equivalences, lol. 
> 
> As for the story structure, I know most of us came here for that relationship tag :). It will come, but not soon. It is a slow burn after all. The story is going to follow the early days of the gang and depict not only the relationship Alma forms the members, but also her struggle with her conscience and humanity as she lives through the harsh reality of the wild west. So while yes, eventually Arthur and Alma will reach that stage, it won't happen for a long time, and there will be road blocks along the way. Most notably a certain someone AND Alma's past. 
> 
> Also, a certain event or events for pre-canon, like ones that occurred before 1890, are going to change. There are a lot of events, so allow your mind to wander and wonder :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on the first chapter. I was so excited to read and reply to them. Any comment whether it's criticism, as long as it's constructive, or compliment is great for me as writer to reflect on. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading :)


	3. If Only for Her

**February 1879- Several weeks later**

It had been nearly a week since they had been on the road, and found a spot hidden away in the back woods of New Hanover. 

New Hanover was a state of beauty and life. The wildlife was diverse, and truly expansive with an impressive amount of greenery one couldn’t even begin to imagine. The landscape had been lined with trees, tall grasses, and wildflowers that gleamed in the sunlight.

Alma had adjusted to the new scene quickly, loving the beautiful wilderness they had entered. Birds singing in the trees, lakes glistening with crystalline waters, it was all a welcome sight. In all her short years, Alma had never seen a landscape so large and wonderous. 

New Hanover was like the childhood lands her mother had described to her during those long nights when her father was away. They held an air of history with the aging trees covering their tracks on the worn dirt roads. There was so much to explore and learn about the land. 

Now that their travels had led them here, to another small, abandoned cabin, Dutch seemed content with them staying for a week or so to attend to some “business”, as he liked to say. Miss Grimshaw readily agreed, noting that some of their supplies were beginning to run low. 

It had been about a day or two since they made the cabin their unofficial home. Despite their busy schedule and travels, Dutch, and Hosea made it a point to read to Alma and Arthur. In between teaching them fishing, starting fires, and some other activities, the two men always stressed the importance of exercising their minds, not just their physical abilities. 

The two men had a talent for making the words on the page sound larger than life. Alma would always sit and listen as best she could while Arthur would sit with his face resting against his hand, attempting to pay attention to the words coming from Dutch or Hosea. Sometimes the language of the author went over both their heads, but nonetheless, they remained seated and attempted to follow along with the men. 

Today was no different: Alma and Arthur sat atop of wooden crates across from Dutch outside the cabin in the morning light. Dutch had fetched them soon after they had completed their chores in order to read to them. He had that familiar glimmer of excitement he had whenever he had a passage of a book he wanted to share.

It was a sweet, and endearing quality neither could say no to. Albeit, Alma and Arthur’s willingness to listen to his words varied greatly. When Dutch had approached them, Arthur sighed, but he took the opportunity to avoid doing the extra learning work Miss Grimshaw had always assigned them following their chores. Alma, per usual, did as she was told, setting aside her writing material and paper, and followed Dutch and Arthur outside to where they now sat, listening to Dutch’s words. It was not the brightest of ideas, as Susan Grimshaw always had a way of finding out if they, usually Arthur, weaseled their way out of doing work.

Regardless, Alma sat with a straight back next to Arthur, who stared at the ground as Dutch recited a quote from the passage of his tattered and worn book. 

“Freedom—the freedom from the greed and manipulations of civilization is when one becomes truly free and may see the truths of our world, and what we value,” Dutch read, lifting his gaze from the words upon his page.

Arthur stretched from his seat, “One man writes all this? How can he go on and on about the same thing?”

Dutch chuckled, “Is that so, Arthur? You don’t find anything meaningful or insightful from his words, aside from the repetition?”

“There you go again using them big and fancy words I don’t get,” Arthur sighed.

Alma smiled sadly as she swung her legs against the crate. Arthur spoke so low of himself. He was smart, but she never understood why he felt that he wasn’t. They never had much of a chance to bond outside of dinner, or animal care. Most of his time was spent with Dutch and Hosea, while hers was spent with Miss Grimshaw. There was little overlap except for the extra activities that Dutch and Hosea took the time to teach them together. Even then, those opportunities were far and few and were for learning not talking. 

Arthur’s negative perception of himself was something she noticed from all their previous interactions. They were always said in jest. However, she could tell that part of Arthur believed that they were true.

Alma frowned at Dutch, and with a shake of her head, she made it known where she stood .

Dutch smiled and nodded in agreement, “I don’t believe the young miss quite agrees with your assessment, Arthur,”

Arthur turned his head and furrowed his brow. Alma met Arthur’s gaze, and offered him a shy smile of encouragement. His clear blue eyes softened slightly, and he quickly looked away. 

Dutch picked up his book to continue reading when the cabin’s door burst open. None of them had to guess who it was. They all knew there was only one person…

“Dutch Van der Linde!” Miss Grimshaw’s voice bellowed. 

Alma immediately turned around to see the woman with a glare upon her face, walking briskly toward, Dutch, Arthur, and her. In her hands were the empty writing pages, ink, and two pens. 

The assignment that Arthur had tried to avoid had at long last made itself present. 

“I know you didn’t run off with those two and distract them from their studies!” she exclaimed.

Alma’s eyes turned to Dutch, who had a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. There wasn’t one time when Miss Grimshaw spoke that there wasn’t some grin upon his face. Alma noticed the soft gaze in his eyes, and she wondered what he was thinking behind it.

“Susan, you’re looking radiant this fine day,” Dutch lowered his book to his knee.

Arthur shifted in his seat next to Alma. Of course, they both knew what was to happen. It was only a matter of time until she found them, after all. 

Miss Grimshaw huffed angrily with one hand upon her hip, and looked to him, “Cut the words, Dutch. Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Alma looked between them, and quickly turned her attentions elsewhere. Dutch and Miss Grimshaw were an interesting couple. They spent their nights playing poker, raising rag tag children together with Hosea while travelling the country. For the most part, their argument were nothing more playful quips and nothing more. However, their rare fights were something of a unique kind. Especially when they involved Arthur and her. 

Miss Grimshaw was a headstrong, tenacious woman who demanded order. From the time and order of chores, to who did what, everything and everyone had a place and function. 

For Alma and Arthur, reading with Dutch before completing their studies wasn’t one of those places or functions. 

Alma watched Dutch stand from his seat, his eyes falling upon Miss Grimshaw with a smile, “I’m teaching these young minds the latest writings and thoughts of Evelyn Miller, Susan. Teaching is what I’m doing,” he explained.

“Oh, yes, I certainly don’t doubt that you’re teaching,” she rolled her eyes as she stepped toward them, “But with teaching comes practicing,” Miss Grimshaw commented, handing Arthur one page of paper, and Alma three, “You and Hosea both do the teaching all and well, but when it comes to actually making them do something with it, I’m afraid I can’t say the same”

Alma straightened her papers in her lap and waited for Miss Grimshaw to hand her a pen and ink. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Arthur release a deep sigh the moment he was handed his page. Reading was one thing, but if there was an activity that Arthur hated more than that it was writing. Writing words onto page wasn’t his specialty. 

Alma frowned at the way his eyes met the page. It was same, lost expression each and every time.

_‘I ain’t exactly the brightest!’_ he would say. 

It wasn’t true. No one believed it for a single moment. Especially Dutch and Hosea.

“Susan, I assure you that we make sure dear Arthur and Miss Alma are becoming intellects and deep thinkers,” Dutch emphasized, “Learning is a journey, not a race. I thought we came to this agreement,” 

Miss Grimshaw scowled, “Making them write a single sentence and reading aloud a line isn’t enough. We’ll be lucky if they’ll be able to write a coherent letter at this rate,” she handed both of them a pen, and set the ink on the crate between them. Without her having to say anything, Alma began writing, “Since you and Hosea ain’t up for the task, I suppose I must be the one to do it,”

It was no use arguing with her. Alma came to realize that whatever Miss Grimshaw said in terms of chores, and the inner workings of establishing themselves where they went, was final. Not even Dutch could deter her. 

Educating them was one of those inner workings. 

Dutch chuckled and faced them, “I’m afraid my young friends, our dear lady has work for you to do. I’ll leave you to it. I have matters to discuss with Hosea, anyways,”

With that, Dutch turned on his heel, and returned to the cabin, leaving Miss Grimshaw with Alma and Arthur. Alma was concentrating on her writing when the same old struggle began.

“C’mon! My hand nearly fell off last time, Miss Grimshaw! Can’t we get a break?” Arthur complained

“Mr. Morgan, the less you complain, the faster you’ll be done. I’m sure Miss Alma can attest to that,” Miss Grimshaw replied, and waved her hand to Alma to emphasize her point.

Alma stopped in her writing and looked up to see them both staring at her. A blush formed upon her cheeks, and she quickly averted her eyes back to her page. Her time with them thus far had been nothing but wonderful. They all had welcomed her with open arms, and while she was still closest to Miss Grimshaw and Bessie, Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur had earned enough of her trust that she didn’t mind being alone with them anymore. 

If there was one thing that she had to say she wasn’t fond of, it was the comparisons between Arthur and her. Because they were the youngest and closest in age, those comparisons were inevitable. 

_‘Look at how well Miss Alma writes!’_

_‘Have you seen how her reading has improved? Won’t be long until she’s reading full length books’_

They were different people, and each had something they were good at. Alma could see the constant praise and comparisons were beginning to wear at Arthur. She didn’t like it anymore than he did.

For Alma, the reading and writing wasn’t all that bad. They were something her mother and father worked on with her. Naturally, it was easy for her to adjust to the new writing work with Miss Grimshaw. The work Miss Grimshaw had assigned to her was similar to what her parents did: write a word three times in English and write three different sentences using that word. On the other pages, she was to write the same word and sentences in Cherokee and Spanish. Miss Grimshaw had been adamant that Alma didn’t forget her where she came from. Thus, she reminded her in the best way she could—through writing.

For Arthur, the reading, writing, and educating didn’t come as easily as the hunting, shooting, and other activities he did with Dutch and Hosea. Now that there was someone to highlight his weaknesses, Arthur became much more reluctant to partake in those activities. Alma couldn’t shake the guilt that she was the reason why he didn’t enjoy them even more. 

“It ain’t fair,”

“Excuse me?” Miss Grimshaw replied, raising an eyebrow.

“It ain’t fair that we have to do all these chores, and more work on top of it. Ain’t that right, Alma?” Arthur retorted. 

Alma looked between Arthur and Miss Grimshaw. She didn’t want to be in the middle of their disagreement again. Most of all, she didn’t want to disappoint anyone. 

The internal struggle she constantly faced was real. 

“I-I don’t think it’s too much, but maybe…it can be with the chores sometimes,” Alma said, hoping to appease both of them. 

Arthur looked over to Alma’s page, nearly complete. She froze, but then covered her page a second too late before he returned his attention to Miss Grimshaw, “Like she would go against you,” 

“I can help him finish, Miss Grimshaw,” Alma offered with a small smile. 

“That’s mighty kind of you, Miss Alma, but Mr. Morgan needs to finish his own work,” Miss Grimshaw placed her hands on hips, and gave them both an expectant look, “This better be done by the time I come back,”

Alma nodded her head, and with a sigh of “Fine,” Arthur agreed. 

They had been writing for several minutes let out a frustrated sigh, “I ain’t smart enough for this! I don’t know why she tries”

Alma turned to him, noticing he had only a word scrawled on his page, “Having a hard time coming up with something to write?”

Arthur nodded. His eyes wandered down to Alma’s her second page, nearly done. Alma frowned knowing what he was thinking. She covered up her page again to stop his thoughts. 

“Ain’t it clear?” Arthur stood up and stretched again, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed at this point, but,” Arthur pointed to the side of his head with a smirk, “not much goes on in here,”

She shook her head, “Arthur, that’s not true. You’re good at a bunch of different things,” Alma insisted. 

“Yeah, none of them things are writing,” he replied.

Alma frowned, “You just need practice. Then you’ll get real good at it like everything else”

“If I was as good at writing as I was shooting, I wouldn’t be here”

An idea popped in her head. If he was as good at writing as he was shooting… Of course, the solution to Arthur’s troubles was obvious. It was simple, and she was sure Arthur would be able to do it if he put his head to it. 

“Maybe try writing about that, then,” Alma suggested. 

Arthur raised a brow and sat back down on the crate next to her, “What you mean?”

Alma froze, not anticipating his question as she started her third page. 

She looked to him, and smiled faintly, “Well, Miss Grimshaw didn’t say what you had to write about. You just need to write. If you have to do it, I mean, it-it might as well be about something you’re good at,” His confused expression alarmed Alma. At that moment, she realized that she shouldn’t have said anything. Alma immediately backtracked, “I-I mean you don’t have to do it. It was, uh, a silly idea”

Arthur shook his head, “No, no. It’s not a bad,” he sighed, “It’s just that Hosea said something like that a couple of weeks back before you joined,”

Alma smiled. Perhaps all he needed was a little more encouragement, “Maybe it might be a good idea if he said it too. I mean…i-it won’t hurt to at least try,”

A moment passed between them, before Arthur took his pen and shrugged his shoulders, “I guess I can write about the hunt. I got my first big game all by myself,”

“Yeah, that seems like something you can write about. You’re really good at hunting,” she encouraged once she was done with her final page. 

It didn’t take Arthur long before he had filled the entire page and then some more on the back. His eyes were fixed on his target, full of determination as he wrote upon the page. She couldn’t help but smile at his accomplishment. 

“See,” Alma said pointing to his completed page, “I told you you’d be able to,”

Arthur looked at his, page surprised that he completed it, “I guess so. It’s about killing, tho. O’course I’d be good at writing about that,”

Arthur a killer? The two words were like comparing night and day, carrots and apples. Arthur was many things, but a killer wasn’t one of those things. 

“You aren’t a killer, Arthur,” Alma smiled faintly, thinking about all the times she had seen him petting the nameless mare or playing with Copper. He tried to cover it up as best he could, but Arthur Morgan was a softy at heart, “You’re nice and sweet,”

“You must’ve gone and hit yourself on the head to come up with something like that,” Arthur laughed.

Alma frowned at a thought that passed through her mind, “I’ve seen killers, Arthur,” she shook her head, and turned to him with a smile, “You’re not one of them,”

Just as Arthur was about to respond, Miss Grimshaw came back.

“Alright, give’em here,” she said, taking the parcels from them.

They both handed their pages to her and sat to wait for her assessment. For once, Arthur sat relaxed, and Alma couldn’t help, but smile shyly at the ground. 

“Alma, per usual, excellent. I’m glad you’re challenging yourself with the longer sentences,” Miss Grimshaw nodded in approval. Alma watched her read through Arthur’s. She glanced between Alma and Arthur, narrowing her eyes before reading some more. The corners of her mouth curved upwards as she read the back of his page. She handed their work back, “Well, Mr. Morgan, I’m quite surprised. Perhaps Miss Alma here’s a good influence on you after all,”

Arthur’s cheeks reddened, and a scowl soon followed, “I-I-I just wanted to get it done,” he stammered, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Of course, Mr. Morgan,” she replied, clearly not believing a thing he had said. Alma wondered what more he had written besides the hunt, “Well, it’s too early for evening chores. You two go ahead and relax for a bit. Dutch and Hosea are going into town, and you two are going,”

A town. Alma’s eyes widened at the thought. She hadn’t been to a town in quite a while.

“You serious, Miss Grimshaw?” Arthur asked.

“Of course, I’m serious. Always am. Now you two wait here, so I can go tell them you’re ready,” Miss Grimshaw turned back and went inside.

Arthur smiled widely, as he turned back to Alma, “Ain’t ya excited about going?! We get to be free of chores and other things Miss Grimshaw would have us do,”

Alma replied with a faint smile, not wanting to damper his cheerful demeanor, “Yea, course,”

Arthur frowned, “What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing, either,”

Alma sighed, “Usually I would be…but, um, uncomfortable things happen when I go into towns” 

Arthur brows furrowed, “Uncomfortable? What do you mean by that?” he asked.

The stares, snickers…there were other things not worth repeating. Instead she just said, “Just bad things. That’s all”

“Don’t worry,” Arthur insisted, “We’re with Dutch and Hosea. Nothing bad’ll happen. Promise,”

The expression he held was one of sincerity, and kindness. Sweet Arthur didn’t know what likely awaited them. However, it was always good to live by hope rather than fear. 

Alma smiled weakly, hoping that Arthur would be right, “You’re right…nothing bad’ll happen,”

The three adults came out, with Dutch and Hosea dressed in different attire from what they usually wore. Like regular people. 

“You let her pick the fabric colors, alright. Three colors,” Miss Grimshaw explained, handing Hosea the money.

“Susan perhaps you should come along. Hosea, and I don’t know the first thing about this type of clothing business,” Dutch replied.

Miss Grimshaw shook her head, “It’s best I don’t go, Dutch,”

“Why on earth not? Nobody would ever lay their hand upon a child,” Dutch reasoned. 

Miss Grimshaw sighed, as she walked over to Alma, and began fixing her up. 

“It’ll look less suspicious if we had her “mother”,” Hosea nodded in agreement. 

“The entire point of going is to get some information and to stay hidden. If someone so much as gives her a second look or blinks at her the wrong way in my presence, I’ll disembowel them myself,” Miss Grimshaw answered as she smoothed Alma’s belt.

_‘Disembowel?’_ Alma had never heard of that word before. 

Alma looked to Hosea and Dutch as Miss Grimshaw continued to straighten her clothes, “What does disembow-”

“A word we shall discuss at another time, and a helpful point Miss Grimshaw has made clear,” Hosea interrupted before she could finish. He looked to the mid-morning skies, “We should head out now so we can make it back before the early afternoon sets in,”

With that, Dutch and Hosea climbed onto the high seat of their wagon. Arthur helped Alma into the wagon’s bed as they started off toward town. Alma gazed back at the cabin where Miss Grimshaw saw them off. Part of her still wanted her to come along, but in way, she supposed she had to get used to the idea that they can’t always be together.

With a heavy mind, Alma waved to her, and Miss Grimshaw waved back with a soft smile.

Whatever awaited them, Alma only hoped that Arthur’s words were true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I had some unexpected and unforeseen life circumstances come about, and I was unable to update. 
> 
> However, I am back! I have most if not all of next chapter written. The main reason is because, this chapter was going to be nearly 7,000 words or even more, and I was like, "Not today, satan!". I had to break it up to improve the flow. With that being said, it will be about 3-4 days before the next chapter is up. Updates should be more frequent now. 
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoyed the read! We will be jumping in time within the next few chapters. Obviously, not by like ten years or anything like that, but enough that Miss Alma will be a teenager. However, we still have about two chapters left in her childhood before we have our first significant time jump. 
> 
> Again, thank you for any and all comments! :) I really enjoy reading and responding to them. To all those who have left kudos: THANK YOU! :D Any and all support is welcome! 
> 
> Until next time, and thank you!


	4. Red Ribbon of Fate

**February 24 th, 1879- Later that morning**

What had been described to her as a town didn’t come close to the reality. What was the “town” as Miss Grimshaw said was no town at all. 

They had entered the City of Limprost a few hours after they set out. Alma peaked out from the wagon’s cover alongside Arthur, and stared at the anomaly in front of them. Before their very eyes was a sprawling city, filled with buildings and signs of industrialization. Large factories lay within the interior of the city as they passed a variety of sights and people. 

Dutch stopped the wagon momentarily to retrieve two newspapers before continuing on their way. Hosea passed them both back, and pointed to a section for Alma to read aloud. 

Alma stretched the paper before her, and studied the letters and words, whispering the sounds they would make together. Some of the words were unfamiliar to her, but nonetheless, she began reading. 

“’Week of February 24, 1879- The L-Lim-Lim-Limprost?,” Alma stumbled over the ‘L’ word, failing to sound out the word on the front of page of the newspaper. She decided to continue forward, and finish strong, “Tribune,” 

“Limproost,” Hosea pronounced correctly. 

“Limproost,” Alma repeated slowly, making sure to stress the right letters and syllables.

“Good. Keep reading like that, and you’ll be able to read books as big as bricks in no time,” Hosea nodded with approval, “Arthur, what have you come up with?” 

“Says something about a ball, or something like that. Apparently, it’s a week for parties here,” Arthur replied as he scanned the articles of the newspaper. 

“Excellent, looks like we’ll be--,” Hosea glanced back to Alma who shared his gaze. She smiled at him, which he returned readily. Rather than continue, he turned to Dutch, “What’s the plan?”

“So Miss Alma, we have a bit of a story that we need to maintain. This ain’t lying, but this is to make sure no one causes us trouble,” Dutch explained.

Alma nodded, “Yes, Dutch. I hear you,” 

“Good. Now Hosea here’s your father, and your name’s Eleanor Smith. Hosea’s my brother, Martin Smith, and I’m Uncle Harvey. Arthur back there is Richard, our stable boy. We’re here looking for fabric, and we’re doing some sightseeing. Does that make sense?”

Even though it was an odd way of phrasing that they were trying to figure out which people to steal from, Alma nodded anyways. The stealing or “business”, as they liked to call it, was something they tried to shield her from. They never told her about their work or why they travelled so much. She was always in the dark about it all. Their line of work was something Miss Grimshaw had hinted at once or twice before, but she always ended it with an _‘I’ll tell you when you’re older’_.

Despite their best efforts to conceal their work from her, Alma had pieced together the type of work Hosea and Dutch took part in. The false names, guns, hideouts, and well, everything else, made it clear as to what they were: outlaws. Her Pa had told her of such people and said that they were dangerous. It only took her a few days to figure out.

However, the extent of their activities was something that they hid well. Nonetheless, she did her best to play along for their sake until they found out that she knew. 

Dutch halted the wagon on the side of the road, and they all got off the wagon. Alma simply stood in wonder, staring at all the sights around. 

The city of Limproost was something Alma could never even dream of. It was growing city with bustling sidewalks and alleyways. The people were colorful, with bright fabrics, and hats atop their heads. Everything was so different from what she had experienced.

“Crazy, ain’t it,” Arthur commented.

“Yeah” Alma replied in awe.

Dutch motioned them to the general store and opened its door. 

“Why hell—” the store’s clerk stopped halfway in his jovial greeting and looked to Alma the moment she walked in. It was obvious in his sight what his thoughts were. 

The familiar feeling of being stared at came back again along with her Pa’s voice. _‘You better look away from my damn daughter!’_ She hid behind Hosea’s arm.

The store clerk shook his head and continued once she hid from his sight, “I-uh… We-welcome! What can I do for you, folks?”

Hosea looked down at Alma with a frown. He patted her head before returning his attention back to the clerk, “We have a list of items we need for our homestead, one of them being some fabric for my daughter here,”

There was a defining silence within the store. The clerk expression went from one of surprise to confusion. Alma lowered her head and tried to focus on the floorboards rather than the shame of rejection and misunderstanding.

“Daughter? She’s yours?” the clerk asked again, glancing between Hosea and Alma.

“Of course,” Hosea replied, placed a comforting hand upon Alma shoulder, “Why do you ask?”

The clerk’s eyes widened at the display, “It’s just that I’ve never seen a—”

“Child?” Hosea finished.

Hosea wasn’t the only with something to say. Dutch stepped forward with smile, holding the clerk’s eyes, “An innocent mind like my niece’s,” he added.

The two men stared expectantly at the clerk, clearly wanting him to finish his line of thought. Arthur also stood with his arms crossed his chest. It was daring atmosphere for the clerk to speak the wrong word. 

Alma looked to the clerk as well and gazed at him through her long lashes. Their eyes met as Alma leaned closer to Hosea. 

Confused, the clerk nodded, “Uh…y-y-yes of course. I don’t see many um, children with innocent minds. We don’t see many of them around these parts. Apologies, sirs, and…young lady,” he added quickly shaking his head. He quickly changed the subject, “What type of fabric were you looking for?”

“Her mother’s looking to make her some new clothes,” Hosea explained as he took Alma forward, “My precious Eleanor’s a growing girl, and I’m afraid she’s outgrown just about everything,”

“Ah yes, sir, a predicament my wife is well aware of. Come along, I’ll show what we have in stock,”

The man pulled out 5 bundles of fabric: red, white, blue with some little flowers embroidered on them, a deep green, and a light tan. Hosea brought over Alma as she looked at the fabric in awe. They were so pretty.

“Go ahead, Eleanor, pick the ones you like,” Hosea nodded. 

Smiling excitedly Alma pointed to the colors she wanted: white, blue, and the green. 

“Should I add some thread and needle to the order, sir?”

“Sure, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have some more,” Hosea replied. 

“Anything else?”

“How about you, Richard?” Dutch smirked, “See anything you like around here? I’m sure my brother and niece can spare something for our hard-working boy,”

Alma laughed quietly when Arthur narrowed his eyes at Dutch. Nonetheless, he gazed over the store’s stock until his eyes appeared to land on something he liked.

“That journal right there,” Arthur pointed to the wall behind the clerk. 

“Why Richard, that’s quite unexpected of you,” Dutch commented.

“But a pleasant, surprise,” Hosea nodded in approval, “The journal please, good sir,”

“Anything else, or shall that be all?”

“Yes, well my brother, and I would like to look around for a bit. We don’t get the opportunity to get out much. Richard, perhaps you should take Miss Eleanor out for a walk around town,” Dutch said with a nod.

Arthur and Alma agreed with no protest. 

They walked outside the mercantile, to the brilliant sun still shining despite the colder temperature. Alma could only gaze at the buildings that lined the streets. People walked past them, adorned with brightly colored fabrics and elaborate hats. Limproost was so large, yet Arthur and she were pushed to the side of the sidewalks as large crowds of people passed them. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Arthur asked.

“Everything’s so big, and crowded,” Alma replied, still staring at the sights. She turned to Arthur, whose eyes were set on a gun shop nearby, “You can go, you know. I’ll wait outside for you,”

Arthur hesitated and looked between her and the shop, “I shouldn’t leave you by yourself,”

“I’m sure you won’t take long,” Alma replied with a small smile, “It’s probably better if I stay out of shops. You should go look around, I promise I won’t move,”

Arthur continued glancing between Alma and the shop before reluctantly nodding, “Fine, as long as you keep your promise. I’ll be a minute,” he walked over two doors and entered the gun shop. 

Just as the door behind Arthur closed, a group of ladies several years older than Alma, came waltzing down the sidewalk. Their hair and jewels glistened in the sunlight. They were dressed with thick wool petticoats embroidered with floral accents. 

With the way they spoke, to their impeccable beauty, they reminded Alma of princesses from the stories Hosea read to her based their looks alone. The finery in which they walked and conducted themselves only seemed to heighten when people moved out of their way. 

However, not all seemed to act accordingly. A man dressed in hunting garb bumped into the ladies without a word of apologies or looking back. The ladies surrounded one of their own, frantically dusting her off. 

The girl in question pushed her ladies away, “It seems as though that brute scuffed my shoes! The nerve of him!”

She looked directly to Alma and narrowed her eyes in a glare. Alma stiffened and turned her head to avoid eye contact with the girl. Alas, Alma had been too late, and she heard the dainty footsteps of the ladies heading toward her. 

“You, help girl,” she said prancing over, her ladies following. She eyed Alma up and down with a frown upon her face, “Wipe my shoes. You seem to not be doing anything,”

Panic shot through her, “I-I’m not a helping girl,” Alma explained as she shook her head. 

“I gotta repeat myself now? You heard me wipe’em,” the older girl pushed a dirty old rag into her hands.

The wrongness of the past returned. Alma looked at the rag in her hands as an ache began to form in her chest. She didn’t want to cause trouble, remembering what Dutch had said during the ride over about maintaining a low profile. People turned their heads but continued on their way. They were already making a scene. 

Alma hesitated before she began to kneel. She had no choice, but to comply with the girl’s wishes. Just as she was at her knees, strong hands pulled her back up by the arm. She whipped around quickly to see Arthur standing right beside her with a glare upon his face. 

“Al-Eleanor don’t,” Arthur pushed passed the group, and removed the rag from Alma’s hands. He threw the rag at their feet, meeting their critical gaze, “Wipe your own goddamn shoes”

The older girl held a hand against her chest, as though Arthur had wounded her, “Excuse me? Is that how you talk to a lady?” 

Arthur chuckled, “I ain’t sure what I’m looking at,”

Giggles and snickers erupted from the girls, before the girl silenced them with one look. 

The girl scowled, and crossed her arms, “My father owns this city. I don’t think he would like to hear that his little girl’s ball shoes were ruined by some trash ruffians,”

“Richard, and Miss Eleanor, I see you’ve made some acquaintances,” Dutch and Hosea came up from behind them. Alma looked up to them to see them both with a smile upon their faces.

Dutch bowed to the ladies, “My apologies, Mr. Harvey Smith, and my brother, Martin Smith. I suppose you’ve already my niece, and good dear Richard,”

The girl curled her upper lip in disgust, “Camille Johnson. Your niece and boy gave me some choice words and ruined my shoes for the ball. I expect that you have some punishment ready for them,”

Hosea stepped forward, and took Alma by the shoulders to his side, “I’m afraid not, Miss Johnson,”

“Is that so? Then I’m afraid I’ll have to tell my daddy that my ball shoes were ruined by two ungrateful brutes. If you don’t want any trouble, I suggest you all leave by sundown,”

“Oh we’ll most certainly leave, M’lady. Did you catch that Richard, Martin?” Dutch turned to Hosea and Arthur, “We’ve seemed to have upset the town’s leader’s daughter who will be attending a ball this fine evening,”

“You sure like to repeat useless information, Mr. Harvey. Out of my way,” her silk red ribbon shone in the sunlight against her brown hair, “I have a function to attend to,”

The four of them watched as the girls disappeared around the corner. A wide grin settled on Dutch’s face when he turned to them. 

He clapped his hands-on Arthur and Hosea’s shoulders, “Boys, let us get Miss Alma home. We have some business to attend to tonight,”

They loaded their wagon with their things and headed back. It appeared Hosea and Dutch had added several more books, two bottles of something, and some food in addition the fabric, and journal. It was all a whopping seven dollars from what they told her.

Alma stared at the floorboards of wagon, silent the entire way back. 

“Don’t think about them things those girls said. They ain’t worth the headache,” Arthur said. 

Alma smiled slightly at his attempt to console her. Compared to other times with her Pa, it was a lot less shouting and violence, “It’s okay. I’m used to it,” she sighed, “It use to always happen with Pa and Ma, it’s nothing new,”

“Just because it happens, doesn’t make it right,” Hosea stated and turned in his seat to make sure she understood, “And it shouldn’t matter what you look like,”

Dutch chimed in, “I swear to you, Miss Alma, we shall obtain justice on your behalf. It shall come swiftly. This is part of the reason why we ride, miss: to fight this intolerance and greed the civilized the created like the plague it is,” 

Alma simply nodded and thought about their words all along the way home. 

The sun was still high in the sky when they arrived. They were greeted by Miss Grimshaw. Alma jumped off the wagon as soon as they came to a halt. Alma went to Miss Grimshaw, and hugged her waist. She buried her face into her side, wanting to forget her experience from the city. Miss Grimshaw stilled before returning the embrace. 

“What happened?” Miss Grimshaw asked as Hosea and Arthur came out carrying the items they had bought. 

“I’m afraid we won’t be staying long. We have business to attend to tonight,” Dutch said with a nod of his head.

“Tonight? Awfully quick, don’t you think?” Miss Grimshaw replied, gently soothing Alma’s back.

“I’m afraid we had an unfortunate run-in with some ladies,” Dutch said without revealing much more, “It led to us having to escalate things,”

Alma felt Miss Grimshaw’s eyes upon her in a moment. She looked to the ground to avoid her observant stare, “Well, I’m glad to hear of it,”

In a flurry of movement, Hosea, Dutch, and Arthur changed from their previous clothing into nicer attire: no hats, and almost unrecognizable. They were off without another word, leaving Alma all alone with Miss Grimshaw. 

* * *

**February 24 th, 1879- Some hours later**

“Tell me what happened,” Miss Grimshaw said softly as the evening settled. 

Alma simply shrugged. Miss Grimshaw had remained silent for most of the day in order to give Alma the time she needed. The woman didn’t leave her, however. Rather, she took her measurements for her new dresses as the silence settled around them. 

Alma knew eventually Miss Grimshaw would come around to asking the hard questions. It was in her nature.

Miss Grimshaw knelt to her height as she finished taking her measurements, and held her gaze, “People were being despicable, weren’t they?” she asked as she helped her out of the pins and into her other clothes.

The words were harsh, but all true. The ache in Alma’s chest had reminded her of the wrongness all over again. Miss Grimshaw always knew. 

“They were mean,” Alma replied, lowering her head, “They kept staring, and called me a help girl,”

“Look me in the eyes,” Miss Grimshaw said. Alma looked at Miss Grimshaw for second before lowering them back to the ground, “No, not to the floor, in the eyes. Raise’em to mine,”

Alma finally met her eyes with tears threatening to fall behind hers. Miss Grimshaw’s eyes lost some of their fire, but behind them remained a firm look. 

“People are fools,” Miss Grimshaw said taking both of Alma’s hands in hers, “Don’t let fools tell you who or what you are. Give them a thread, and they’ll keep on pulling. Those girls ain’t anything to you,” she wiped a rogue tear from Alma’s cheek, “Their words are nothing. They hold onto beliefs that don’t mean anything. You have a whole mess of people who care about you, whose words and actions mean more. Don’t waste your tears on fools who don’t mean anything to you. Understand?”

Alma nodded, with several more tears falling, “I understand,” The ache in her chest that she had contained since Limproost had festered into an uncontrollable pain at the lady’s words, “It hurts,”

Miss Grimshaw pulled her to an embrace, “I know it does, but we can’t change the nature of foolish people,” she held Alma, and pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pockets, “Now dry them tears,” 

Alma wiped her tears as Miss Grimshaw said and breathed in several breaths. Copper came in from his resting place, wagging his tail excitedly at Alma. He licked her hands, and in that moment, he melted away some of the pain. His happy eyes pierced itself into her heart, and it wasn’t long until she began petting him. 

Copper barked, and Alma laughed in response. She continued to pet him behind the ears until they heard a noise from the outside. It seemed too soon for Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur to be back. Alma looked to Miss Grimshaw, who already had her hands upon the trigger of her loaded revolver. 

Miss Grimshaw moved to the curtains of the window, peering to the outside. Alma held onto Copper, who’s tail remained pointed straight up, with a low growl humming from his chest. It wasn’t until Miss Grimshaw smiled did Alma relax.

“They’re back,” she said turning to Alma.

Through the door came Hosea, Dutch, and Arthur, each with a bag full of precious valuables that Alma was positive didn’t belong to them. 

“How did the mare do, Mr. Morgan?” Miss Grimshaw said as she inspected the necklaces, and pocket watches they had amassed. 

Arthur smiled, “She’s fast, and quiet. She’s a good girl, if I don’t say so myself,”

The adults began sorting through their inventory and choosing what to pawn and when. Alma decided it was time to make her retreat to the kitchen as they conducted their business. 

Footsteps stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. Alma turned to see Miss Grimshaw standing underneath the frame. Miss Grimshaw looked to Alma amongst the bustle of activity behind her. Miss Grimshaw pulled her into an embrace once more.

Alma buried her face into her waist. Gentle circles were massaged into her back, “Our conversation ain’t done yet,” There was a stark silence before Miss Grimshaw continued, “I’ll protect as long as I can, for as long as I can. You’re my girl, and I…” Miss Grimshaw paused. Alma gazed up to see her eyes closed in a conflict, “…I care a great deal for you. I can’t always be there to protect you, though. Fools like that are everywhere, but you have to stand your ground. I’m not saying fight them, for now at least. They’ll do everything they can to keep you weak. You can’t let them. You have to let them know that you ain’t weak or powerless,”

It was a struggle. How could she show all that when she was those things? Alma always wondered how her mother dealt with it… Her mother was so much like Miss Grimshaw. They had the same strength that she envied so much.

Footsteps from behind Miss Grimshaw broke the moment between the two. Standing right behind her was Arthur with a slight blush upon his cheeks. Alma smiled softly at his embarrassment. 

“Uh, sorry,” Arthur hesitated before stepping forward. 

“Not at all, Mr. Morgan. I’m sure Miss Alma would like to speak to other people besides me,” Miss Grimshaw straightened her skirts before leaving them alone.

Once they were alone, Arthur scratched behind his head before reaching inside his pocket, “Um, this’s for you,” he handed her a piece of fabric, no, a ribbon into her hands, “Ya probably won’t like it, but I thought it would look nice,”

Alma inspected the red ribbon that Arthur had given her. It was actual silk with the way it moved and shone in the candlelight. Soft, it was one of the softest and plushiest thing she had ever felt. Never had she held something so exquisite. It even had leaves and flowers embroidered upon it the closer Alma looked. 

It was stunning.

With a wide smile, Alma looked to him, “Thank you, Arthur! It’s so-so amazing! I’ve never had something like it,”

Arthur scratched the back of his head with a shrug of his shoulder, “Don’t think much about it. Just thought you might like it when I saw it,” he paused before continuing, “Best you don’t ask where I got it from,”

At that moment, it immediately clicked. Everything they had stolen, down to this ribbon, was from a certain someone they had met. 

A faint smile crept upon Alma’s lips. It seemed fitting after all. 

Alma shook her head, “I won’t. Promise,” she tied the ribbon into her hair. Once more, she turned to Arthur, and said, “Thank you…for everything. 

“It’s nothing,” Arthur shook his head, “We gotta have each other’s back here,”

_‘You have a whole mess of people who care about you, and whose words mean more. Don’t waste tears on people who don’t mean anything to you’_

Alma smiled, and simply replied, “Yea,”

There was greater truth in Miss Grimshaw’s words than she ever imagined.

There were people who looked out for her, and in turn, she would for them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy y'all.
> 
> So to start-off, this is literally the most overdue update ever. I was going through it, man, I was going through it. I managed to dig myself out of some unforeseen circumstances just in time to remember that I have a fanfic that needs updating. All in all, updates will be starting again in a timely manner, just in time for me to go back to work, lmao. 
> 
> Either, way thank you for reading, and sticking around! :)
> 
> Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Just to start off: I hoped you enjoyed this first chapter! I'm extremely happy that you all chose to read this story! :D
> 
> I will be revealing bits and pieces of Alma's background and how she ended up in the position she was in this chapter. Next chapter will reveal things such as her ethnicity and age. However, in case you were not able to tell from this chapter, she is still a child. Arthur along with Dutch, and Hosea will be making their appearance as well. 
> 
> Also, as you can tell: I LOVE MISS GRIMSHAW. I wanted to know so much more about her that I ended up coming up with this entire story based off her relationship with Alma. She was just a well written character that I wanted more of. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading!


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